OK, 120. Hungry. Let me go straight to Fifth, then back to Brussels Grill and/or Domino’s Pizza, for beautiful beautiful food. Early to sleep, in time to wake up for last nightcap in Saturday night Empire (i.e. Jennifer). Oh but it’s not so gloomy again. Where’s the snow? The rain? Makes me want to stay here for one more beer. Oh no, even glimpses of blue sky now! What is going on? But this does tell me the real pleasures of my holiday are No.1 drinking, then No.2 eating. The naughty things are in third place and easily and always crushed by my desire for drink & food. La Grande Bouffe—I’ve said it a hundred times before & I will say it forever—is my life, and my life is La Grande Bouffe made real. As much as I revere Bad Timing and The Night Porter and Last Tango in Paris, etc, etc, the real defining film of my life is La Grande Bouffe. So many times, even in the last few hours & days, I feel I am going to have a heart attack or stroke because of my eating and drinking (and f–king, not that I’ve done any of that for a long time).